Hope, revisited.

I still seem to have a case of "Blogger's Block". (see post below). But as I was visiting one of my favorite sites this morning, (in)courage, I got a glimpse of inspiration. Write an entry about hope, win a T-shirt. Nothing creates inspiration like the chance to win something free, right?!

Hope. That's a topic that could produce a hundred blog entries. I could write a blog about hope itself. Eagerly I log in, crack my knuckles, and wait for inspiration to flow from my fingertips.

*sound of crickets*

Nothing.

Oh boy. This case of blogger's block is worse than I thought. How can I not come up with anything about Hope?

To try and get my thoughts flowing, I turned to Google for direction, to find the meaning of hope. Suddenly I remembered having done this before. Have I written a post about hope already?
Checking the archives- yes, there it is. Hope, written Thursday October 23, 2008. I wrote this shortly after my grandmother died. I don't often go back and re-read things I've written. I don't write because I think what I have to say is any kind of spectacular. I write to keep from going insane. And on the roller coaster ride of insanity that's been the last year and a half, this blog has been my safety bar. But every great once in awhile, I'll read something I wrote and I think, "did I really write that? That's not half bad."

Here's what I had to say about hope back then:
According to the all-knowing Internet, hope is "a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life. Hope is the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best."
Isn't that kind of like being optimistic? Not really... optimism is more of.... a thought process that leads to a positive attitude. Hope is a belief, an emotion. You can talk yourself into being optimistic- but hopefulness comes through belief. And faith. I think you can be optimistic without faith, but faith is the very foundation of hope. Emily Dickinson wrote in a poem that "'Hope' is the thing with feathers-- / That perches in the soul."

The verse on my daily calendar today is "Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful." Hebrews 10:23. The word that sticks out most to me is unswervingly. That is HARD to do. I can't say that I've been able to do that. I've never lost my faith, but I definitely have lost hope. But that's the beauty of faith. If you lose your optimism, you don't really have anything to fall back on. It's kind of hard to talk yourself into being positive, when you feel like you're in a downward spiral. But even if you lose hope, or feel like you've lost it, you still have faith to catch you as you fall. And you don't have to talk yourself back into hope. Faith lifts it back up.
"Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope. Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning, great is your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:21-23

I can be optimistic that 2009 is going to be a better year. I can be optimistic that things at work will change. I can be optimistic that Mr. Right will someday call (soon, preferably!) I can be optimistic that mom-mom and Emily are better now, even if it wasn't the way I would have chosen. I can be optimistic that things will get easier. I can even be optimistic that mom might make chocolate chip cookies. But those things are all based on the power of positive thinking. My hope is based on the faith in knowing that even if that all doesn't happen, He's still going to be there in the aftermath and mess.

So that was me then. Where am I now on the whole hope thing? Well, things at work have definitely changed, although being laid off certainly wasn't what I was hoping for. Mr. Right seems to have misplaced my number. The hurt at losing my grandmother and my sister within 6 months of each other hasn't lessened much. As far as things "getting easier", that changes from day to day. Some days are easier than others. In the chocolate chip cookie department, a few days after I posted that entry, I received a box from my Aunt Pat. Homemade chocolate chip cookies. Who says God isn't all about the details?

So 10 months later, not much has changed. In some ways, things might be a little worse. At least 10 months ago, even though I hated it, I was working. Now I have no full time job, and no idea what I want to do when I grow up. I'm 26 years old, and I feel like I have not much to show for it. And yet I have to ask myself, do I still believe now what I wrote then? That my hope is based on the faith in knowing that even if all those things don't happen, He's still there in the aftermath and mess?

The answer is of course, yes. What good is hope only in the good times? If you can't find it when the proverbial chips are down, I don't suppose you ever really had it in the first place.

I hope 10 months from now my circumstances will be different- and by that I mean different in a positive way. I hope to have a job. Or maybe to finally be back in college. And, yes, having a Mr. Right would still be rather nice. I hope that memories of Emily bring a smile instead of the hollow, empty feeling I get when I hear her name. I hope that 10 months from now I can say that I am genuinely content with who I am.
But if none of these things pan out, I can say with every fiber of who I am that my hope isn't built on circumstances. It's built on Someone who is greater than any circumstance.

Inspiration, where art thou?

I should be writing something. After last week there certainly shouldn't be a shortage of stories, lessons, and heartwarming moments.

Yet the blank screen taunts me.

I want to write something. Anything. Something inspiring. Motivating. Funny.
Anything to erase the blank screen that's been dogging me all week.

I seem to have fallen into the "post mission trip slump". I've been absolutely useless this week. And lonely. I went from spending every day (and some nights!) with a group of 18 people. There was no shortage of laughter, teasing, and really- we came to be like a family. It's amazing how close you can become to people in just a short period of time. And then all too soon, the week is over and I'm stuck with my own company.

The whole unemployment thing seems to have set in more since I've been back. After a week of being productive and feeling like I accomplished something at the end of each day, this sitting around at home has become old. I feel useless. And again, lonely. I miss my friends from work, but somehow I don't think they seem to miss me much at all.

No wonder my search for inspiring is nothing more than a wild goose chase. It's getting lost in a maze of self-pity and moping.

One thing I have learned is that the more you force the words, the more elusive they become. So in place of words and listening to me whine, I leave you with something even better. Pictures! A sampling of some of my favorites.


Building #8- to be completed Sept. 2010


It will look something like this: (This is Building #6)

Habitat for Humanity- this is why we volunteer ~ Wordless Wednesday

Agata Biel. 15 months old.

Future resident of Building #8, Gliwice, Poland, thanks to Habitat for Humanity.

The luxury of a wet wipe

Saturday we had a BBQ with the families who will be living in Building 8. Some of the kids from Building 7 also joined us. We had cut up a watermelon and gave it to them while we were waiting for the grill to heat up. They were so cute. And of course, kids with melons means spitting seeds, sticky hands, and messy faces.

This little one stole my heart. I was so tempted to sneak her away and bring her back with me. If I thought I could have gotten away with it, I would have tried.

When she was done with her piece of melon, she had a mess that was a little beyond a paper towel. So I grabbed the wet wipes Terri had brought. I handed it to her, and she looked at me, then looked at the wet wipe in her hand with a surprised look on her face. She wiped her hands, then tentatively brought it to her face. I didn't think much of it, until I saw her about ten minutes later, still running the cloth over her face. Then it clicked. She probably hadn't seen one before. I imagine wet wipes are probably considered a luxury, if they even have them around in Gliwice. And I started to feel a little bit of pity for these families with messy kids and no wet wipes. And it made me think of all the little things I take for granted. And how blessed I am compared to a great many people. But yet, sometimes we place way too much importance on these little luxuries. I've seen poverty and visited families in houses that should be condemed. I came home to my 4 bedroom house that's three times bigger than the apartment I helped build for a family of 8. I look at my bedroom that is overflowing with "things" that I can't bear to part with, and clothes that I haven't worn in years. I'd like to think that these trips will radically change me, but yet at the end of the day, I'm just your spoiled average 26 year old American Girl who spends way too much time on her computer, her cell phone, and is still attached to her "stuff".

But I'm realizing that stuff isn't everything, as cliche as that sounds. These families that I pity because they live without the luxuries of laptops and wet wipes are some of the happiest people I've ever met. As I look at the smiles on these faces, I think perhaps I am the one that should be learning from them. Wet wipes aren't everything you know.

It's good to be home

I arrived home last night, after a really, really, REALLY long day. We left the hotel in Gliwice yesterday morning at 6:00 am, traveled to the airport in Krakow, and hung around the airport until our various flights left. Going home I wasn't traveling with the rest of the Chicago group, so after we checked in, we said our goodbyes before we headed to our separate gates. I hate saying goodbye. I flew from Krakow to Munich, Germany in a plane with propellers. Propellers. So small that we had to climb one of those rickety metal sets of stairs to get into it. Lots of praying going on for that hour or so. When I landed in Munich, I only had less than an hour to catch the next plane. And of course, the gate I needed was on the opposite end of the terminal. I took off on a run, and arrived sweaty and out of breath, and annoyed that I couldn't browse through all the cool stores I was flying pass. But now I have another stamp in my passport as proof that I really was in Germany. We boarded the plane, sans propellers, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Homeward bound at last.



Dad picked me up and I directed him to the nearest place that served hamburgers. I love Polsih food, but I must admit that after 10 days I was glad to see some beef again. And ice. I don't know how people from Europe can drink lukewarm beverages. Ugh. I do wish that I could have smuggled some kielbasa home. Man, that is the best stuff ever. Nothing here even comes close to it. But I doubt the US customs people would have let that go by undetected. *sigh*



So now I'm sitting in my living room, getting my internet fix, and trying to ignore the suitcase of dirty clothes sitting in front of me. Perhaps if I ignore it long enough it will unpack itself.

I must admit, I am glad to have my phone back. I felt quite adrift not being able to call and talk to family and friends. And not having my computer to be able to update and share a story right away was frustrating. Some nights when I got to the internet cafe I was too tired to think straight, and I know there are stories that I'm missing or forgetting. It makes me appreciate the luxuries that I have.


I have about three hundred pictures on my camera, so the next few days I'll be trying to catch up with those. I've tried to quickly update about the last three days in the posts below. I'm sure once I start looking at the pictures, I'll be adding more stories.

Last work days in Poland

Friday was a pretty great day. Funny how you just start getting into your groove, and then you have to leave. I can't say that I was particularly enjoying putting up the interior walls, but it was getting easier once we got the hang of it. I still avoided that level at all costs. I was working with a small group that became known as "The Phun Team". We had alot of type A personalities on this trip. And there's nothing wrong with that but they can be... a little intense. I was much happier working with the relaxed group. 19 different personalities is one of the great things about these trips. And sometimes 19 different personalities is also one of the worst things about these trips. But it all worked out, and we really got alot done. I think our team set one of the records for being the most productive. That's not the reason why we're there obviously, but yet it's rewarding to know that were able to get so much done. Getting these people into their homes is what our motivation is, and if this overachieving, type A personality group can help make that happen sooner... then that's just icing on top of the cake.
Our cement floor team was awesome though. They got every room in the downstairs flats done. At one point they told Damian, our site supervisor, that there were only three bags of cement left. His eyes bugged out of his head, he exclaimed "Oh Mein Gott!" and whipped out his cell phone and started quickly calling for more cement. The truck arrived later that afternoon, much to his relief.

Damian is amazing. He and his family will be living in one of the downstairs flats. He has been working as the site supervisor on the last three buildings. He's applied for a home in each one of them, but it took until this year before they made the list. During that time, his daughter was diagnosed with some kind of glandular cancer. She's now in remission. Damian is not only responsible for overseeing the construction of these buildings, but he's responsible for the training of the unemployed workers. These men are learning the construction trade. So they can only do one thing, and then they have to be trained on the next task. On top of that, Damian is also responsible for the influx of volunteers from all over the world. And us volunteers are by no means professionals, so we all have to be shown things. Add the language barrier into the mix and I'm surprised the man still has hair on his head.

Saturday was only a half day of working, and much more laid back. "The Phun Team" was finishing our last wall. We would have finished it completely, except we realized that we hadn't cut out a block for the overhead door beam. So we had to take some blocks down and do that. Oh well- we almost did it!
Then we had a BBQ with the families that had been working with us all week. A group of little kids from the other buildings came over and we had a blast playing with them. They found a friend in Russell, who is an overgrown kid himself.
The gratitude from these families is what touches me the most. I know that volunteering isn't a huge part of their culture, and they don't really understand why we come so far to help people that we don't know. But heart language is universal even when verbal language is not, and some things don't need to be translated- like hugs and smiles and tears. And that's why we keep coming.

I wasn't having the best time earlier this week- I think that was pretty evident. But as the week went on and I got to know these wonderful people, I stopped dwelling on myself. Amazing how your attitude changes. I'm thankful for this amazing opportunity to do something beyond myself.

Late nights make for unpleasant mornings....

My original plan had been to get to the internet cafe on Saturday to catch up with the last two days on the jobsite. I was going to eat dinner with the gang, update the blog, then meet up with everyone at our favorite cafe for some coffee and dessert. Instead our dinner gang ended up being the "let's stop here for a quick beer" gang. Then one turned into two, then two turned into three...... need I say more?

Lesson learned: it is impossible to keep up with Europeans.

By 12:30 I was pleading to be taken back to the hotel. That night was when I regretted most not having a better grasp of Polish. I'd forgotten my card with the name and address of the hotel, and I couldn't tell a taxi driver where to take me. Center square is a good 20 minute walk from our hotel, and I knew if I tried to walk back by myself I would have been in MAJOR trouble with the various "Dad's" in the group. It was well after 1:00 by the time we made it back. When I got to my room I cried when I saw my suticase overflowing with all my junk. I packed as quickly as I could. I'm amazed that everything arrived in one piece. Needless to say, there were some tired and grumpy people getting on the bus yesterday morning. I was in better shape than some- I'd stopped drinking earlier in the night so at least I wasn't hung over, I was just tired. But even so....

Lesson learned: sometimes it's okay to put your foot down and say no.

One of the funniest parts of the evening was at dinner. A few days before some of us were at dinner with Sam and Dorota, one of the other translators. We wanted to buy the beer glasses because the logos with the various beers were so cool. We asked Sam to ask the waiter if we could buy them. Sam shook his head and said that they wouldn't sell them so we should just steal them. we protested and said we couldn't do that. So Dorota asked for us, and the waitress said she couldn't really sell them, but if we gave her 5 zlotys, (about $2), we could take them. So Saturday night they had different glasses and we asked Sam to ask the waiter. He didn't really want to, but we weren't going to steal them. So he asked. Sam and the waiter were going back and forth in Polish and the waiter went to the bar, and then came back a few minutes later. He whispered very low in Sam's ear and then walked away. Sam said, "he says that they cannot sell the glasses. But it would be quite alright if you put them in your bags and took them. And it would be quite nice if you could leave some money with the bill."

Lesson learned: it is okay to steal the glasses as long as you leave some money.

More on our last two days at the jobsite to follow.

Heading towards the finish line

So it's Thursday. Well, here it is Thursday. Thursday evening to be exact. I have no idea what time it is where y'all are, and to be perfectly honest, it's really not significant. Wherever I am is what time it is. Therefore, it is Thursday evening at 8:40. I've finished an excellent dinner at the city square- Poland's version of a Greek Gyro. I have no idea what it was, and I'm perfectly happy with that, because it was wonderful.

Today I ended up laying cement bricks. We developed a system. I spread the muck and gunk, and someone else deals with the numbers and levels. It's all good. :) I feel much better because I feel like I can actually say I accomplished something.

One thing has resonated with me this week. Ana Cryz from the Habitat Office in Poland came earlier this week and spent a few days with us. She's the National Global Village Coordinator for Habitat in Poland. (In English- she's a head high muckety-muck) And wonderfully friendly. We talked for a little while and she was telling me that volunteering is not prevalent in Poland. Alot of that comes from the days of communism, etc. It's just not common. So when they hear of Americans coming all the way over here, they truly think we are crazy. (Anna doesn't, obviously, since she works for Habitat. Although after spending three days with us crazy Americans, she may have changed her mind!) But she asked me, why we give our time, our money to come to a place like Poland. I felt somewhat uncomfortable, because in alot of ways, this trip is somewhat selfish. It is not a hardship to come here. I come because I love to be able to give my time and what little talent I have. But at the same time, I've had the opportunity to experience a totally new culture. A place that I otherwise would never have come to. And not only once, but TWICE. So yes, I'm doing "good". But I'm getting so much more in return.

It's given me alot to think about this week. I watch the people here and I compare it to the people back in the States. It's different, yet people are people no matter where you go. I wish that I had made more of an effort to learn Polish. One of my favorite parts of the day is breakfast at our hotel. Breakfast is included, and we stop by the front desk to get a ticket for the restaurant. The woman behind the desk speaks no English. We've been practicing saying our room numbers in Polish, and she gets the biggest smile on her face when we say it. This morning I said it and she exclaimed and laughed and I think she said something along the lines of "perfect".

It made me realize that one of the basic human emotions is a yearning to be understood. This trip has taught me that, and I don't mean specifically language.

So there you have it. It took almost a week, but I think I've got the attitude change I was looking for.

More tomorrow. I miss y'all.

Update from the jobsite- day three

I seem to be having some technical difficulty uploading photos from my camera, so those will have to wait until I get home. But in the meantime, here's a brief update from the first three days on the job.

This year has been quite a different experience on the job site. Last year the building was still in it's beginning stages, and we spent the first few days moving materials rather than actually putting them on the building. And because it was in the early stages, we didn't see alot of the future homeowners. Many people aren't aware that Habitat offers a "hand up", not a "hand out". These families receive a no-interest loan, and part of the requirement is to put in at least 750 labor hours. So this time around, we have had the opportunity to work with many of them. I've become especially attached to one of them- Sebastian. He is deaf, and uses sign language. I've taken a few classes in American Sign Language, and still remember some of my signs. Sign language is not universal, but some of the signs are the same. I managed to convey that to Sebastian, and we've had alot of fun this week. He is one of the hardest working people there, and so grateful to Habitat, and to us.

So what are we doing this week you ask? Well I shall tell you. We have two main jobs this week- building interior walls with concrete blocks, and laying cement floors downstairs. I must admit I am having some trouble finding my niche. I quickly discovered on Monday that laying blocks is not one of my strong suits. Handing me a level is like asking me to solve an Algebra equation. It simply ain't happening. I don't have the skills for precision work. I tried, but it was taking more time to correct my mistakes, so I decided to go downstairs. My biggest frustration is that the local people definitely haven't bought into the whole "equal opportunity" thing. There are some things women don't do. And one of them is laying concrete floors. I helped shovel the concrete all day yesterday, but that was the extent. Which is fine, I was happy to have something to do. Today however they didn't really need a shoveler, so I spent most of my day adrift. Which of course is also frustrating.
But tomorrow is another day.

We've spent the last couple nights in the center square of Gliwice. I love this place. There are many outside cafes surrounding the square, and I could spend hours taking in the people. O'm even getting a better grasp on the language. I can almost count to ten!

I'm glad that I am here. I feel like I am part of something important, and for that I am thankful and very blessed to have this opportunity. But at the same time, I am very anxious to be back.

More tomorrow- hopefully after a slightly more productive day.

Blue skies and falling tears

Yesterday we went to Auschwitz concentration camp. I really debated about whether I wanted to return again this year. Obviously it's a difficult and painful thing to see and hear about. But I decided that I needed to go.

This time was so much harder. The tears started the moment I walked through that gate- which, as I'm sure most of you know, is not the norm for me. Last year I walked through the grounds numb. This year I walked through with eyes blurred from tears. I cannot comprehend the evil that took place on the very ground that I now walked upon. That the bright blue sky with sun that warmed my back and dried the tears on my cheeks also looked upon human suffering that the mind cannot fathom. I felt like the sky should be dark and gray. I could not take pictures. I know that people need to know. They need to see. But I tell you, you simply cannot grasp the full impact from a photograph. Trust me. Being there is haunting and chilling, and I decided yesterday that I don't think I can ever return to that place.

But I think I will carry those images with me forever. And that's not a bad thing, I don't think. We have to keep those horrible memories alive, because to forget is to open the possibility of an atrocity like this happening again.

We cannot forget. Yet I wish I could understand.

It's moments like these when I wish I could speak with God. Some clarification would be most welcome.

Made it- finally

Well I've made it here- finally. I suppose eventually we all have to have a "bad" travel experience.
Thursday my plane from Dulles was delayed for an hour or so. Which wouldn't have been so bad.... if I wasn't already sitting on it. They said they were getting some kind of error message on the external power something or other. And that it wasn't a big deal if the mechanics couldn't fix it because we didn't really need it to fly to Chicago. To me, anything that has the phrase "external power" sounds pretty darn important.

So they fixed it or did whatever they had to do and we landed in Chicago without a hitch. I met up with the rest of the team, and got ready to wait for our 9:40PM flight to Krakow.

hahahahahahaha.

Seems like our plane was slightly delayed. Like, not taking off until 3:30AM delayed. There was a problem with the plane they were flying in, so they landed in Warsaw and sent another one. But by the time that plane arrived, the flight crew wasn't allowed to fly without sleeping, so our flight was delayed.

Which is perfectly fine with me. I'd much rather have my pilot awake.

So we hung out in the Chicago airport for a loooooong time. Airport chairs are not conducive to sleeping. The biggest concern is that only 10 of us were flying from Chicago. The other nine were arriving in Krakow from various places, and would arrive without knowing we were delayed. Thank goodness for cell phones. Terri arranged for someone to meet them and take them back to the hotel until we got there.

But the plane arrived safe and sound. We got to our hotel, and after a shower and a meal I feel like a new person. I kept a running journal, which I'll try and add here later. They charge to use the internet, so I don't want to be too long.

I hope it's only lingering lack of sleep that's causing it, but I really just want to go home. Today was kind of our "free" day in Krakow. I hope once we get to the jobsite my attitude will straighten out, but right now.... I'm a little homesick. Okay, alot homesick. Perhaps I just need another Polish beer, haha.

My minutes are adding up, and if I go on complaining, I'll be out a fortune... so I'd better sign off.
We're going to Auschwitz tomorrow. I was really debating about whether I wanted to do that again. That was hard last year. I decided to go. After seeing that again, that should fix the whining for sure.

Then off to Gliwice to work!
Stay tuned- hopefully I'll be checking in a day or so with a better attitude.

Ready for takeoff. Somewhat.

Well it's finally here. I've been so busy being anxious, nervous, and downright terrified of the flight, I've kind of forgotten to get excited about the trip itself. Now that I'm quickly approaching the point of no return, I am starting to get excited. I'm looking forward to seeing some old friends from last year, and can't wait to meet the new ones. I can't wait to see how much progress has been made on Building #8 in a year. And I can already taste the borscht (spelling?) and kielbasa. Breakfast however, I am not looking forward to. I'm a banana and chocolate milk in the morning kind of girl. Lunchmeat and coleslaw at 6:30 in the morning doesn't do much for me. This year I'm prepared with a jar of peanut butter and some pop tarts.

So the anxiety's lessened somewhat.

Somewhat.

I just keep telling myself that by this time tomorrow I'll be there, safe and sound and laughing at myself for being such a giant baby.

Stay tuned!

Links to the Poland Trip Blog

Sooooooooooo...... in 1 day, 15 hours, and 16 minutes I'll be joining the rest of my team and heading to Poland!

This year the team travel blog will be written by my roommate, Andrea.
Check out the link here. You can also catch up on last year's blog here.
I'm also putting a permanent link to these two blogs on the sidebar.

Since I'm not writing the team blog this time around, I'm going to try and keep up on my own blog. I enjoyed writing the team blog last year, but I found it a little difficult to write from a team perspective and not just my own. It is all about me after all! HA!

I'm not sure how often I'll be able to get to the internet cafe, but check back periodically! The team blog will definitely be updated, so be sure to check that out too. I think you can actually get on an e-mail list and be e-mailed when a new entry is posted. Isn't technology wonderful?

And say a prayer or two for the flights, would you? I'm trying to be a big girl, but I'm still half terrified out of my mind of flying.

Finding Him in the cancer ward

There was a girl in the oncology ward today that I cannot get out of my mind. When they first walked in, I only saw them from the back. I saw a man, probably around my parents age, supporting a woman with an oxygen tank. She was very short, very slow, very, very thin, and very frail. Her hair was mussed and I assumed it was this man's mother. Then she sat on the bed and I saw her face.

She's probably in her mid to late 20's.
She's my age.

I have seen sick people before. I spent a day in the hospital with Emily when her blood sugar sky rocketed. I visited my grandmother after her surgery and while she was going through chemo.

But I have never seen someone who looked so close to death.
And so young.

She's my age.

It rattled me. I can't get her out of my mind.

She sat on the edge of the bed for about 10 minutes. Then the nurse helped her bring her legs up and on the bed and get her situated. That little bit of movement exhausted her. It was so painful to watch her struggle to make that move. A movement that I take for granted every day of my life. She closed her eyes and I watched her chest heave up and down as she tried to catch her breath. As an asthmatic I know what it's like to struggle to breathe. I know how terrifying it is to feel like you can't pull enough air into your lungs. I know what it's like to have to conciously tell yourself to take a breath. But that all seemed like nothing compared to her. I have no idea what her name is. I don't know what kind of cancer she has. But she broke my heart.

All day yesterday I was worried about going with Heather. I do not like hospitals. I get a weird buzzing noise in my head the moment I pass through the doors. The sight of an IV makes me feel faint. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to sit through 6 hours of watching poison drip into my friend's veins. But siting in a room full of people whose survival depends on a variety of posions and toxins being pumped into their bodies suddenly makes you grow up and get over yourself. I won't say the buzzing noise went away. And I still felt sick. But I knew that would go away the moment I walked out of the door.

That girl doesn't have the strength to even stand up, let alone walk anywhere.

I've been anxious for weeks about this upcoming flight to Poland. Stressed out and frightened to the point where I sometimes can't think of anything else.
I'm afraid to go on vacation. How ridiculous is that? I bet she'd trade my irrational fear for the very real fear she faces every second.

I looked for God in that room today. I searched for Him in the eyes of that girl. That girl who could easily have been someone I went to school with. I looked for Him in the worried face of her father. I looked for Him standing behind Heather, Heather who now wears a hat and a wig because cancer took her hair. I looked for Him in the pale faces, the dark circles under the eyes, the bald heads, the IV lines, the clicks and beeps of machines, in the shadows in the eyes of the nurses, and the bedside vigil of family and friends.

I know this sounds like such a downer. But then again, cancer is no laughing matter. I wish I could say I found Him, but today He was a little harder to find. I couldn't help but wonder- Why Heather? Why her? Why any of those people in that room? Why does He allow such a horrible disease? Why does He allow such terrible suffering?

I know there aren't really answers to those questions. At least not answers that can satisfy. But yet, find Him I did. I found Him in those very places I was looking for Him. Because love is stronger than death. Cancer can steal your hair, can sap your strength, can tire your spirit and weary your soul. It can exhaust your family and friends, and it can ultimately take a life. But the one thing cancer cannot destroy is love. Love is what covers the bald heads and drips in the IV lines. Love is the light that battles the shadows behind the eyes, and it is the rhythm behind the clicks of machines. It's what sustains the caregivers, the doctors, the nurses. Love is God, therefore everywhere you see love, you see ultimately can't help but see God.

At least that's how I see it.

(in)courage

I highly, highly recommend y'all checking this website out:

This new site was just launched today. Their purpose is simply to provide a place to be a source of encouragemnt to women. And they're asking us to blog about what encourages us.

If I'd read this question yesterday, I probably would have started off with my faith, my family, and my friends. I'd have listed songs that speak to me, and poems that touch the heart. I'd have cited Scripture and quotes from favorite authors. I'd have described beautiful sunsets and the sound of crashing waves.

That was before I spent the day sitting in the oncology ward at Johns Hopkins with a friend while she received a round of chemotherapy.

Suddenly encouragement looks a little different. I looked around me today and saw husbands sitting with their wives, wives with their husbands, daughters with their mothers, a father with his daughter, and friends sitting with friends. I watched nurses treat their patients like people and not an ID number. I saw tears being wiped away as well as shared smiles and laughter. I saw nurses wearing buttons on their scrubs proclaiming that "Cancer Sucks", and I laughed. I looked at the faces of these people, faces of people fighting for their lives, and yet they still smiled. I thought of the anxieties of my own, which pale in comparison, and I felt embarrassed.

Yesterday I would have answered this question with what encourages me. After today I think the question shouldn't be "what encourages you?", but "what can I do to be an encouragement to someone else?"

Battling Anxiety

"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." ~ 1Peter 5:7



Lately I've turned into one giant bundle of nerves. Between majorly, and I mean MAJORLY, stressing about the flight to Poland this Thursday, and worrying about life and choices- like finding a job, managing my money, dealing with unemployment, trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up, wondering if it's possible to go to school full time, what school to go to, where I want to live, who I want to be...... between everying I'm just one anatacid pill away from turning into a giant ulcer.



And I've got one more worry added to my ever-growing pile. Heather asked me to go with her tomorrow to her chemotherapy appointment at Johns Hopkins. I said yes right away. Heather is... well, alot like me. She rarely asks for help from people. So when she does ask- it's important. I told her I'd do whatever I had to do to make sure my schedule was clear so I could go. And I meant it- but I'm scared.



I haven't been in a hospital since that day in November 2 years ago when Emily almost died.

I do not like hospitals. Between my asthma and the fact that I am the biggest klutz in the world, you'd think I'd feel right at home. I practically spent half my childhood in the emergency room for one reason or another. But to this day I get this weird buzzing in my head the moment I step foot into one, and from then on it's a constant battle not to pass out. Add needles and IV's and tubes and plugs coming out of people and I'm just about done. That day in November was, up until that point, the worst day of my life. I had to leave poor Emily's room every 15 minutes or so and walk outside.



I want to be there for my friend, but I'm not so sure if I can handle it. It's a pretty selfishly rotten person that causes a drama-queen-esque scene in the middle of her friend's chemo session because IV needles make her feel "oogey".

Oy.

Vacation Highlights

Dad and I on the jetski. This was before the infamous oyster shell incident.

This is what happens when you don't wear shoes while on a jetski, tip said jetski because it's low tide, run into a bed of oysters, and don't listen to your dad when he tells you to pull your feet up and float. :)

Me and my Sarah

My Great Uncle Tom, my Grandma, and my Great Uncle John

My mom and our friend Eileen. I didn't get a picture of Mike and the amazing ribs he made for us. Yum.

Sarah, me, and Rachel at Planet Hollywood in Myrtle Beach

Long story- I was being anti-puzzle. This is a re-enactment of the moment I "caved".

My two favorite funny girls

Rachel and Sarah

Aunt Pat, Uncle Mike, and my parents at the winery.

Me and Sarah

Can't go to the beach without taking a pretty sky picture

Double Rainbow!




Uncle Mike and Sarah. The wind was blowing the sand across the beach. It was so very cool.

Sarah. Not that I'm biased, but doesn't she have the most beautiful smile?

'nuf said